


Hezekiah

by mithrel



Category: Good Omens, Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse Prevented, Blanket Permission, Blow Jobs, Crossover, Established Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Gen, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Mind Meld, Podfic Welcome, Rituals, Spells & Enchantments, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-24
Updated: 2010-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 06:26:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Long ago, before the birth of Christ, the Prophet Hezekiah received a vision of the First War and the Banishing of Lucifer. He was told it would be needed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Presence of Mine Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> This series will be AU from 5x18. The ideas about angels’ faith were taken from [](http://icarus-chained.livejournal.com/profile)[**icarus_chained**](http://icarus-chained.livejournal.com/), who’s awesome, and the one who inspired me to start writing these crossovers in the first place.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is found out. Takes place pre-season four.

Gabriel is just about to leave London after setting it up so a rapist would get his balls bitten off by his neighbor’s dog when someone calls his name.

His _actual_ name, the one he hadn’t gone by in more than a millennium.

He looks up in panic to see a dumpy man staring at him. He doesn’t register anything about his appearance, since the first thing he sees is the Grace shining, realizes _angel,_ and is in Greenland before he thinks.

The other angel follows him. “Gabriel–” he repeats.

Brazil.

“If you’d just _listen_ to me–!”

Egypt.

“I’m not going to turn you in!”

Gabriel stops at that, the sounds of the market he’d landed in filtering dimly into his consciousness. His eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“Well, first of all, because I’m not exactly the favorite Upstairs.”

“All the more reason to redeem yourself by telling them where the missing archangel went. What are you even doing here anyway? I thought angels weren’t allowed on Earth.”

The angel shrugs. “I’m the only one. I don’t hear from Heaven often. Look, will you come back to my flat and have tea, so we can talk properly?”

“No,” Gabriel says flatly, getting ready to leave again, for all the good it would do.

“I have some cream scones,” the angel wheedles, a sly glint in his eye.

Well, crap. Gabriel has been playing a Trickster long enough for some of their characteristics to rub off on him, and apparently it shows. He gives a put-upon sigh. “ _Fine!_ ”

The other angel smiles. “I’m Aziraphale, by the way.”

Aziraphale? The name is naggingly familiar, but Gabriel can’t think why. “So where’s your flat?”

***

Aziraphale’s flat is small, the kitchen combined with a living room, with a door presumably leading to the bedroom and bathroom in one wall.

“It’s not much, I’m afraid. I spend more time at my bookshop anyway.”

“You have a _bookshop?_ ” Gabriel repeats incredulously.

“Certainly. I had a full collection of the Infamous Bibles up until recently.”

“What happened to them?”

“There was an Incident,” Aziraphale says darkly, “Now my collection is rather different.”

Gabriel lets the subject drop as Aziraphale bustles around the kitchen making tea.

As the tea boils, Aziraphale pours it from the kettle into a teapot, slides a tea cozy over it and puts it on a tray. He adds milk, sugar, tongs, cups, plates and the promised scones to the tray and brings it over to the table. “Here we are.”

Gabriel takes a couple of the scones, which are covered in cream and blackberry jam, as Aziraphale pours the tea. “Milk?”

“No, but three sugars.”

Aziraphale smiles. “Of course. I shouldn’t have had to ask.” He hands Gabriel his tea, then pours milk into his own cup and takes a sip. “Ahh, that’s better. Now we can discuss this like civilized people.”

Gabriel snorts. “I’m not civilized _or_ people. And neither are you.”

Again the gentle smile. “Perhaps not, but after living here for six thousand years one picks things up.”

Gabriel spits out his tea, and Aziraphale winces. “You’ve been here _how_ long?”

“Six thousand years.”

“But that’s–” Gabriel pauses, remembering where he’d heard the name. “You’re the Angel of the Eastern Gate!”

“Not anymore, I’m afraid. I was demoted and sent here.”

Gabriel snorts. “Just like Heaven, to think assignment to Earth is a punishment!”

“I don’t hear from them often, and I’d really rather not go to the trouble of contacting them. I’m sure if they wanted you back they’d have mentioned something.”

Gabriel’s relieved that he’s apparently not going to be yanked back to Heaven for “reeducation,” but at the same time he feels a pang that his family apparently doesn’t care about him.

His thoughts are interrupted by a key in the lock, followed by a voice. “Angel? Are you here?”

Gabriel’s out of his seat and across the room in the literal blink of an eye, pinning the intruder to the wall by his neck. “ _Demon!_ ”

“Don’t let him kill me!” the demon strangles out, struggling against his hold, his legs kicking in air.

Aziraphale stands up in alarm. “Gabriel, put him down please!”

Gabriel ignores him, briefly marveling at the change a few minutes in the company of one of his brothers made. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t exorcise you right here!”

“Because I asked,” Aziraphale puts in. “Crowley is a friend of mine.”

“A _friend_ of yours?!” Gabriel repeats incredulously, but he lets go of the demon nonetheless.

He coughs, rubbing his neck. “Yeah,” he rasps. “A friend of his. And who the hell, if you’ll pardon the expression, are _you?_ ”

“This is Gabriel,” Aziraphale answers before he can.

Gabriel takes some twisted satisfaction in the way the demon’s eyes widen.

“Oh do sit down Crowley,” Aziraphale says, his tone exasperated.

Crowley shoots a nervous look at Gabriel, who leans back in his chair and makes an expansive “be my guest” gesture. He sits reluctantly on the edge of the chair, but gratefully gulps the tea Aziraphale gives him.

“So what’s he doing here?” Gabriel demands of Aziraphale.

“I really think you ought to ask him,” Aziraphale answers mildly, but the reproof is clear.

“What are you doing here?” Gabriel repeats, turning to Crowley.

The demon puts down his tea. “Look, it’s like this. We’ve been down here for six thousand years, ever since the Beginning, with precious little contact from either Upstairs or Below.”

Gabriel nods.

“So about a thousand years ago we realized it was pointless to interfere with each others’ affairs. It was much easier to pick separate targets.”

“Targets?” Gabriel repeats.

“For tempting or religious ecstasy,” Aziraphale puts in.

Gabriel turns to stare at him, and Aziraphale glares back with such defiance he lets the comment he was about to make drop.

“Not long after that we started spending time together socially,” Crowley puts in.

Getting a closer look at the demon, Gabriel realizes that Crowley isn’t a human turned in Hell, as he’d first assumed. There are tattered remnants of Grace clinging to him, stained red but still there.

“You’re one of the Fallen!” he blurts out.

Crowley flinches. “Yeah? And what of it?”

Looking closer still, Gabriel sees shreds of gold mingled with the red. Startled, he shoots a glance at Aziraphale, and, sure enough, his Grace is gold, but it has red threads running through it. “You…you two are…” he realizes.

“Well, six thousand years is a long time,” Aziraphale points out.

“But he’s a _demon!_ ”

“Only technically. Living on Earth has changed the both of us.”

“That’s obvious,” Gabriel mutters. That one of his brothers had sunk low enough to consort with a _demon,_ of all things...

“One more comment like that and you will no longer be welcome here,” Aziraphale says sharply.

Gabriel holds up his hands.

But, watching them, the way Aziraphale refills Crowley’s teacup without being asked, adding milk and sugar, the fact that Crowley is sitting very near his brother and his hand occasionally casually drifts across to touch Aziraphale’s, looking for reassurance with an archangel in the room, Gabriel realizes that there’s more to this than he first thought.

He finishes up his scones. “Well, thank you for the tea.”

Aziraphale smiles at him. “Any time, dear boy.”

 _Dear boy?_ Gabriel raises an eyebrow at Crowley, who rolls his eyes and shrugs.

“You’re really not going to tell Heaven about me?”

Aziraphale bridles. “I’ve said I wouldn’t, haven’t I?”

“Alright, alright! You’ll forgive me if paranoia has become a survival trait.”

“It happens,” Crowley says, and when Gabriel looks at him he winks.

“So as I said, you’re welcome back anytime, provided…”

“Provided I make nice with your pet demon,” Gabriel finishes and Crowley scowls. “I won’t make any promises.”

But he’s almost envious, he realizes as he leaves. Both of them were cut off from Heaven, but they’d managed to find somebody so they weren’t alone. There was no one like that for him.


	2. In the Presence of Mine Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing worse than a knowledgeable demon is one who’s knowledgeable _and_ smug.

Gabriel hates to admit it, but he’s _bored._ There’s only so many times he can play tricks without it palling, and jerking the Winchesters around loses its appeal after _they_ find him out.

He must be losing his touch.

“I’m bored. I’ve been here for a millennium and a half doing the same thing every day.”

“Wait’ll you’ve been here six times that long,” Crowley replies, not unsympathetically.

Aziraphale is busy with something, so he’s in Crowley’s flat. Gabriel approves of the sound and video system, and the décor in general, even though he’s been forbidden to go near the plants (“Took me forever to train them, don’t want an angel messing it up.” He doesn’t ask.)

When he’d shown up, Crowley had immediately seen that he required something stronger than tea, and broken out the alcohol. Crowley was drinking merlot, but he’d handed Gabriel a kahlua without being asked.

“And then I get found out by those morons…”

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “The Winchesters?”

“How’d you know?” Gabriel asks.

The demon snorts. “They’re into everything.”

“Do you know them?”

Crowley snorts again. “Yeah. I gave them very simple instructions, and they didn’t follow them.”

“Typical.” Gabriel sighs suddenly.

Crowley looks at him shrewdly. “Why do you care if they found you out?”

“It’s a matter of principle! I’m trying to stay off the radar!”

“Uh-huh,” Crowley agrees skeptically.

“Besides now I can’t mess with them anymore, and they were entertaining.”

“Uh- _huh._ ”

Gabriel glares at him. “ _What?_ ”

“Seems to me you have a more…personal reason for being annoyed with them. Can’t be the loud one, he’s got Grace all over him, but it’s not yours. But the other one…y’know he’s got demon blood?”

“Of _course_ I know he’s got demon blood!” Gabriel snaps. He _so_ does not want to talk about Sam Winchester, now or ever.

Crowley smirks. “Humanity. Gets under your skin, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not human!”

“Did I say you were?”

“Look, I know what you’re insinuating, and you’re dead wrong!”

Crowley holds up his hands. “Have it your way. But from everything I’ve heard the Winchesters dislike angels almost as much as they dislike demons. ‘S gotta sting.”

Gabriel drains his drink in one pull.


	3. Posing Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel goes off to find Cas and beats some sense into Dean. Crowley and Sam talk.

Gabriel keeps an eye on the Winchesters. Watches them go back to the past and meet Michael. Watches Sam gorge on demon blood again (and doesn’t _that_ make his heart twist), watches them take down Famine and Dean get so desperate he actually prays.

Watches them get killed and come back knowing what he’s known all along: that God’s not gonna save their asses. Watches Dean take down the whore, watches as Cas goes up against five angels and Dean ices Zachariah.

He’s disappointed in his little brother. Sure, hanging around with the Winchesters is apt to make you suicidal, but _carving a banishing sigil into his chest?_ Bastard’s just lucky angels don’t get yanked back to Heaven when they’re banished.

Still, he needs to _find_ his brother now, before something else does, so he heads for Wisconsin and the Winchesters.

Predictably, his welcome isn’t very warm. Or rather, _too_ warm.

“What the fuck do you want?” Dean demands, as Sam pulls out Ruby’s knife (Gabriel’s almost insulted, that they think a demon-killer will gank him).

He leers at Dean. “I just want to talk. You never call.”

He notices Sam’s eyes go dark with rage…gotta be rage, what else could it be?

“Your little team seems to be one member short.”

Dean’s face twists. “Yeah. Cas, he…we don’t know where he is.”

Gabriel snorts. “Typical.” He heaves an exaggerated sigh. “Guess I’ll have to find your lost angel for you.”

“Wait, what?” Sam demands, but Gabriel’s already somewhere else.

***

Aziraphale opens the door and his face splits into a grin. “Gabriel, come in! I was just about to make tea!”

“Not today, Azzy. Is Snake Eyes around?”

Aziraphale frowns. “ _Crowley_ should be over in a few minutes. Why?”

“I need your help.”

When Crowley shows up, Gabriel fills them in.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale says doubtfully. “There are quite a few angels running around down here since the Seals were broken, and he could be _anywhere._ ”

“But how many of them are in empty vessels and losing their Grace?” Gabriel retorts.

“It’s still looking for a needle in a haystack,” Crowley complains.

Gabriel snorts. “I don’t expect _you_ to do anything. You’re only a demon after all.”

“Not always!” Crowley snaps back.

Gabriel gives an elaborate shrug. “Still, I don’t expect you remember anything about family, about the things they’ll do for each other. Demons only stab each other in the back.”

He can hear Crowley grinding his teeth before he finally growls, “Fine! We’ll find your bloody angel, won’t we angel?”

Aziraphale sighs. “Of course.”

Gabriel smirks to himself. Demons aren’t the only ones who know what buttons to push.

***

They find Castiel unconscious on top of a hotel in Bavaria. Aziraphale gasps. “Oh my dear! You didn’t tell me it was this bad!”

Cas’ shirt is missing, and his chest is still oozing blood. Worse than that, though, is his Grace. There’s barely more than a flicker left.

“Crowley, could you…”

Crowley huffs. “Why do _I_ always get stuck with the healing? I’m a demon, it’s not in the job description.” But he kneels down and puts his hand on Castiel’s chest. The wounds scab over and then disappear completely.

Gabriel leans down and surrounds what’s left of Cas’ Grace with his own, shaking as he unfurls it after squashing it down for so long. He pushes some of his Grace into Cas, recharging him for awhile.

But this is serious. Angels only lose their Grace like this when they’ve lost faith. For humans faith is an option, but there’s no such thing as an agnostic angel. Even those who aren’t in Heaven have faith in _something._ Gabriel has faith that humans will always be bastards to each other, that the Star Trek franchise will never die, and that Switzerland will always make the best chocolate. For Cas’ Grace to be this low he would have had to have totally lost his faith. Just being cut off from Heaven wouldn’t do it, not this fast.

“Let’s get him back. They’re at the Super 8 in Wausau.”

***

When the four of them appear in the motel, Aziraphale and Gabriel supporting Cas between them, Dean goes white.

“Holy _shit!_ ” Dean takes Cas from Gabriel and lays him down on the bed, then turns, appearing to notice Crowley for the first time. “You!”

He nods. “Hello again, moron.”

“Who are you?” Sam demands, staring at Aziraphale.

“Sam, Dean, my brother, Aziraphale.”

“You’re an angel?” Sam asks, as Dean tenses behind him.

“Oh please, not all angels are on Michael’s side!” Gabriel sneers. “There’s three and a half in this room, for one.”

Dean’s brow furrows. “Three and a half?”

“Ix-nay on the angel-hay,” Crowley mutters.

“You were an angel?” Sam asks, peering intently at him.

“Oh for Manchester’s _sake,_ can we _not_ go into this now? You’ve got a sick angel on your hands!”

Immediately Dean goes back to hovering over the bed, and Sam reluctantly joins him. Crowley glares at Gabriel in a way that means they’ll be having Words later. Gabriel ignores him.

***

Dean fusses over Castiel for the rest of the day, and for several days after that. He’s sleeping soundly, and no matter how many times the new angel assures him Cas will be fine he doesn’t believe it.

One day, though, Gabriel comes up to him, his expression serious. “Walk with me.”

Dean’s eyes narrow, and his eyes go from Crowley to Sam before he thinks.

“Oh, please!” Gabriel scoffs. “Even if Crowley meant to do anything to your precious brother he’d hardly do it with an angel right there, would he?”

Dean hesitates. “I dunno. Most of the angels I’ve met would be happy for Sam to be out of the picture.”

“Go with him, Dean.”

Dean looks over at Sam, surprised. “You sure?”

Sam nods, fingering the demon-knife meaningfully. “I can take care of myself.”

Dean shrugs and heads out of the motel room.

***

“Cas is in trouble,” Gabriel says once they’ve left.

“Gee, ya think?” Dean snorts back.

“No, I mean he’s _really_ in trouble.” Gabriel stops and turns to face him, for once completely serious.

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, feeling ice thread down his spine.

“He’s losing his mojo…”

“Well he’s cut off from–”

Gabriel snorts. “So am I. So is Crowley. So is _Lucifer._ You think that matters?”

Dean’s brow furrows in confusion. “But Cas said…”

“He didn’t need to worry about it when all this started, so he didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“But when he kept searching for Dad and not finding him, and then found out that God really _has_ left the building it got serious.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean demands, feeling panic welling up. If something’s wrong with Cas…

Gabriel sighs. “Angels _need_ faith. Actually, physically _need_ it, like you need air or food. Most of them have faith in God. A few of them have faith in other things. The ones that don’t…” He stops suddenly.

“The ones that don’t…” Dean prompts him, not liking where this is going at all.

Gabriel sighs again. “They die. If an angel loses their Grace they fall, become human, but if they lose their faith there’s nothing left to sustain them.”

“And Cas has lost his faith.” Not surprising. Dean remembers the look in Cas’ eyes when he gave him back his amulet, the way his voice broke in betrayal when he cursed God.

Gabriel glares at him suddenly. “We wouldn’t be having this problem if you weren’t so selfish!”

“Wait, _what?_ How is this _my_ fault?!” Dean squawks. He ignores the voice that whispers, _Cas took your side. He’s in this mess because of you._

“After Cas was cut off he still believed in God, so his Grace was only slightly diminished. But the longer he searched for Him without results, the weaker his faith got.”

“And so his mojo started draining away faster.”

Gabriel nods. “It still wasn’t as bad as it could have been, though, since he’d started to have some utterly inexplicable faith in _you._ ”

Dean blinks. “ _Me?!_ ” _I never did anything to…why would he…_

“Yeah you, hotshot. Once Cas found out Dad moved out without leaving a forwarding address his faith in you was all he had left. And then you decided that it would be a good idea to say yes to Michael, after everything Cas had done for you.”

Dean stops in his tracks, stricken. “I…I didn’t know.”

But he should have. After Lucifer was first let loose Cas had said it. “I killed two angels this week. Those were my brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled and I did it–all of it–for you. And you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world. And I lost everything–for nothing.”

He remembers Cas’ utter rage when he found him in the alley. “I rebelled for _this?_ So that you could surrender to _them_?”

And then later, outside the warehouse: “You’re gonna take on five angels? Isn’t that suicide?”

“Maybe it is, but then I won’t have to watch you fail. I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t have the same faith in you that Sam does.”

Cas had lost his faith, so he was gonna die quickly, rather than…

“If an angel loses his faith, what happens?” he asks Gabriel urgently.

The archangel shrugs. “He just…wastes away.”

Cas must’ve figured it was better to go down fighting. “And he’s still…”

“I recharged his Grace, but that’s temporary. I can’t keep doing it. Unless he finds faith in _something,_ unless you convince him you’re not _gonna_ say yes to Michael…” Gabriel trails off meaningfully.

Dean’s jaw sets. He’s been the cause of enough death. Damned if he’ll kill Cas too. “OK.”

***

When Dean and Gabriel have gone, Crowley unexpectedly speaks. “So what’s the deal with you and Gabriel?”

Sam looks up, then shrugs. “We first met him in Ohio; he was playing tricks on the people there. Nearly turned us against each other, too. Dean staked him and we thought that was that.”

Crowley snorts. “Hardly.”

Sam nods. “We met him again, after…” He swallows, remembering who he’s talking to. Crowley might apparently have been an angel at one point, but now he’s a crossroads demon. “After Dean made his deal. Some guy vanished at a Mystery Spot in Florida.”

He takes a breath. “Gabriel threw me into a time loop, killed Dean over and over, to prove that he was gonna die and I couldn’t change it.”

The bitterness of that hasn’t faded, even though he realizes now Gabriel had been trying to keep him from breaking the Final Seal and starting the Apocalypse.

“So you don’t like him, then?”

“I hate him!” Sam spits back.

“Now that’s a lie.”

Sam pauses. “I…OK, fine, maybe not _hate_ him. I did for awhile, though, after what he did to Dean. And then I find out the guy who’s been annoying us for three years is a former archangel? Who’s not lifting a finger to help?”

Crowley waves a negligent hand. “At least he’s not on their side.”

Sam snorts. Like that’s worth anything.

“And now it seems like he’s picked your side,” Crowley continues.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Might want to ask him about that.”

Sam blinks. “What?”

“Well, he’s been down here how long exactly? And never given a rat’s arse about anyone but himself.”

That’s true. “The world’s gonna burn,” Sam says hesitantly.

“And he said he didn’t care.”

“I…maybe he was lying?” Gabriel does like Earth, Sam knows that.

“Ah, but why would he lie?” Crowley asks slyly.

“I…don’t know.” Sam resolves that he _will_ ask Gabriel about it at the next opportunity.


	4. Smoking Out Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam each have a conversation with an angel, with mixed results.

After three weeks Cas is back to normal, but Gabriel is still hanging around. Sam remembers the conversation he had with Crowley, and resolves to bring it up the next time they’re alone.

That's easier than it sounds, since a week into his stay Crowley had thrown a fit about “primitive accommodations, worse than the bloody fourteenth century” and declared he was going home.

Typically, Dean had responded with, “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”

“I thought you guys were gonna stick around and help?” Sam had asked. They’d never _said_ as much, but he’d definitely gotten that impression.

“We’ll keep in touch. If anything happens Featherhead here will know where to find us.” Crowley gestured at Gabriel, who stuck his tongue out at him.

“Really, my dear, is it a good idea to leave them? Particularly with poor Castiel in such a precarious condition?” Aziraphale asked.

“So we take him with us,” Crowley dismissed.

“You’re not taking Cas anywhere without me!” Dean had snapped.

The upshot of it was that they had all ended up at Crowley’s summer house, even though Dean had nearly shitted bricks at the thought of transatlantic angel travel.

There were plenty of guest bedrooms. Sam had expected to share with Dean, which, with the quality and size of the rooms, would be a lot nicer than usual.

But Dean had insisted on staying with Cas, so Sam has his own room for once. It's weird.

But, anyway, it isn’t hard to find privacy in a house with more than a dozen rooms. First he has to find Gabriel. The archangel seems to split his time between bugging Sam and wandering around somewhere. Sam doesn’t know where he goes, but he always comes back.

He finds Gabriel in the living room, caramel corn in a bowl on his chest, watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

“Hey,” Sam says.

“Hey, Sammy.” Gabriel mutes the TV and pats the couch next to him.

Sam sits down. The couch is small, and he’s pressed up against Gabriel. He fidgets, not sure what to do with his hands.

“Want some?” Gabriel asks, offering the popcorn.

“Uh…no.”

Gabriel waits a little longer, then finally asks, “Something on your mind?”

“Why’d you decide to help us?” Sam blurts out, then winces. _Way to go, Winchester, piss off the most powerful help you’ve got so he squashes you like a bug._

But Gabriel only gives him an aggrieved look. “Cas is my brother isn’t he? I have to look after him!”

“But you left!” Not to mention the last time they’d met Gabriel hadn’t seen anything wrong with bloodying Cas up a little. Not exactly protective-older-brother behavior.

“So?” Gabriel shoots back. “ _You_ left, but you came back when your brother needed help!”

Sam winces, thinking of Stanford. Still, Gabriel’s right, so he nods. “But Cas is better now.”

“Is he?”

Sam falters. “Isn’t he?”

“No. He’s lost his faith. That’s a lot more serious for angels than for humans.”

“How serious?”

Gabriel puts down the popcorn. “Like life-and-death serious.”

Sam gulps. “So that’s why you’re still hanging around.” It doesn’t make sense though. Cas woke up three days ago, and now he seems pretty much back to his old self.

But Gabriel’s nodding. “The more faith Cas loses, the faster his Grace will drain away.”’

“So he’ll fall…?”

“No. Angels fall if they lose their Grace but keep their faith. If they lose both, they die.”

Sam stares. “So Cas is…”

“Yeah.” And Gabriel flops back on the couch, looking suddenly tired.

“Can’t…can’t you do anything?”

“ _I_ can’t. Dean can.”

“…Dean?” Sam repeats, his brow furrowing. What does Dean have to do with it?

“Yeah. Provided he pulls his head out of his ass for once in his life.”

“But why would Dean…?”

“Look, angels need faith in _something._ Cas had faith in your brother, for awhile, before he decided to go all ‘needs of the many.’ Now Cas’s floundering again.

Sam nods. It makes sense that Gabriel would be concerned about his brother. But still, Gabriel hadn’t actually spent that much time with Cas since they relocated. When he wasn’t annoying Sam he seemed to prefer being out of the house.

“Where do you go, when you leave?”

Gabriel waves a hand airily. “Oh, around. People still need punishing, after all.”

Sam frowns. “Don’t you have more important things to worry about?”

“Yeah, but that’s _fun._ Almost as fun as messing with you.”

Sam gives up on ever getting a straight answer out of Gabriel.

***

Dean’s worried about Cas. He woke up three days ago, but he’s still sleeping. A lot. Dean’s in a position to know exactly how much, since they’re sharing a room.

And isn’t _that_ weird? Even when he and Sam had been seeing other people after Sam started the Apocalypse Cas would only pop in occasionally, so Dean spent most of his time alone.

Now Cas is around all the time, and Dean tries to avoid thinking about how much he enjoys it. Well, except for the part where Cas has been ignoring him since he woke up. Dean supposes he deserves it.

“Hey, Cas?” he tries, for the third time that day.

Cas doesn’t look up from his book.

“Cas, I…I’m not gonna say yes to Michael.”

Total silence from the angel.

Dean’s suddenly angry. “Dammit, it’s the only way I saw to fix things!”

Cas finally looks up at him, his expression as incredulous as Dean’s ever seen it. “ _Fix_ things? By _giving up?!_ ”

Dean winces. “I know, I know. But it’s the only way I could see to protect the people I cared about. I thought if I made conditions, guaranteed their safety… And if I said yes before Sam did I could go after Lucifer without hurting him.”

Cas shakes his head, radiating disapproval.

“I’m not _going_ to say yes!” Dean snaps.

“Why should I believe you?” Cas demands.

Dean barely keeps from wincing again. There’s no reason Cas should. “Because I thought that I was looking out for you. But I wasn’t. Not Sam, and especially not you.”

Cas looks at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“Gabriel told me why you were losing your Grace.”

Cas freezes, and then his face clouds. “He had no right to–”

“What, so he should have just let you die without trying to stop it?” Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “I…dammit Cas, I’m human, I fuck up. I shouldn’t be the only thing keeping you alive!” He pauses, then sighs. “But since I am, I’m gonna do my best to deserve that faith.”

“Dean…”

Dean turns to him, grabs his forearms, pulls him up. “Cas, I…I _can’t_ lose you! You and Sam are the most important things in my life, and…” He realizes what he’s doing suddenly and stops, embarrassed.

Cas puts a hand on his shoulder. Dean shudders. He remembers Cas in the future, broken, hopeless. But even that’s better than… “I can’t lose you,” he whispers again.

Cas grabs his chin, forces Dean to look at him. “You won’t.”

“You promise?”

Cas smiles slightly and nods. “I promise.”


	5. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally have the beginnings of a plan to stop Lucifer. Only the book they need was lost millennia ago.

“Lucifer’s still out there,” Sam points out one day, like any of them have forgotten.

Aziraphale looks up from his crossword puzzle and nods. “We need to do something about it.”

“If everyone’s done stating the obvious here,” Gabriel drawls from the couch. “ _What_ exactly are we going to do? We can’t kill him…well, we _could,_ but it’s likely he’d get all of us first.”

“Seal him up again,” Crowley puts in. “Lock the door and throw away the key.”

“Oh is that all?” Dean snorts. “And how would we do that, genius? He’s an _archangel!_ ”

“ _Ahem!_ ” Gabriel coughs, and Dean winces. The others, even Sam, may have no trouble remembering what Gabriel is, but to Dean he'll forever be the Trickster.

“There’s a legend…” Aziraphale says diffidently. “A book that could seal him away…”

“The Book of Hezekiah?” Crowley demands incredulously. “But that was lost millennia ago, if it ever existed!”

“It existed,” Gabriel says.

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Dean demands. He hates it when people talk over his head, and angels do it more often than most.

“Long ago, before the birth of Christ, the Prophet Hezekiah received a vision of the First War and the Banishing of Lucifer. He was told it would be needed.” Cas says, speaking for the first time. “He wrote it down in a book, but the book was lost not long after the Crucifixion.”

“Well, _that’s_ a lot of help!” Dean snaps. “If no one knows where it is.”

“You forget, Deano, that we can time travel,” Gabriel says. “Zap back to a time before it was lost and bring it here…”

“Assuming you can _find_ it,” Sam interjects.

“Of course we can find it!” Gabriel says, looking wounded.

“Well good luck on your little Quest for the Holy Grail,” Crowley snorts.

“You’re not helping?” Sam asks him.

“A demon traveling through time? Not bloody likely!”

“But you’re not–” Sam silences at Crowley’s glower. Dean still doesn’t know what the deal is with that (something about the Serpent? Maybe? Or was it a flaming sword?) but it’s apparently a touchy subject: every time someone other than Aziraphale brought it up Crowley started throwing around lethal glares.

“Castiel, Gabriel and I will look for the book,” Aziraphale says, smiling at Crowley. “You, Sam and Dean keep an eye on things here.”

“But the last time you went back in time you were almost comatose, and that was less than forty years,” Dean protests. “You’re talking going back _millennia!_ ”

“It will be fine, Dean,” Cas reassures him.

“Like hell it will!” he snaps.

“I have faith.”

That stops him cold. He and Cas haven’t talked about his loss of faith since the day Dean confronted him about it, but he _is_ doing better. Aziraphale and Gabriel don’t wince anymore when they look at him. Cas’ battery is recharged, thanks to Gabriel. He shouldn’t have a problem with it. “I still don’t like the idea of you going alone…”

“He won’t _be_ alone,” Gabriel snaps. “We’ll be with him.”

“But–” _But I won’t._

“We’ll look after him, Dean,” Aziraphale says gently.

“Dean. This is the best chance we have to defeat Lucifer.”

Well, when he puts it like that… “Fine.” Dean sighs. “But…hurry up, will you?”

Cas smiles. “Of course.”

***

If Dean is ill-at-ease with letting Cas travel back so far, Sam is just as worried about Gabriel. Fine, Gabriel’s an archangel, and if he’d ever lost his faith Sam doesn’t know about it, but…

The fact is, he’d gotten used to Gabriel hanging around. But after the conversation they’d had Gabriel had been ignoring him, and that gave him a hot, tight feeling in his stomach he didn’t look at too closely.

At first it isn’t too bad. Gabriel talks with Cas, which is only natural, since Gabriel had said he was worried about him.

“You OK?” Gabriel asks as Sam tries to melt into the wall.

Cas nods. “I am fine, Gabriel.”

Gabriel peers at him, his eyes going unfocused, and suddenly relaxes. “Thank Sors for that!”

Then Sam overhears him arguing with Crowley, who he’d evidently known for some time. “I can’t _believe_ you don’t have anything!”

“Not _my_ fault!” Crowley snaps back. “I didn’t know my house was going to be invaded by a horde of maniacs! Tricksters and falling angels and Winchesters, I ask you! Besides, it’s not like you can’t zap some up for yourself.”

“That’s not the point! I can’t _believe_ you don’t have any candy in the house!”

Sam hides a smile.

When Gabriel starts palling around with _Dean_ though, conjuring up pie and comparing the merits of Casa Erotica and Busty Asian Beauties Sam can’t ignore it any longer.

He’s jealous. Jealous that Gabriel seems to be paying more attention to everyone else. He wants… he cuts off the thought, still not quite ready to go that far.

And now Gabriel’s going off on a dangerous mission and wants him to _stay here_ to “keep an eye on things.” Fuck that.

He slams his book shut (he’s been staring at the same page for the last half hour anyway), making Dean jump, and storms through the house looking for Gabriel.

He finds him in the dining room with Aziraphale, drinking _tea,_ of all ridiculous things.

“You. We need to talk. Now,” he growls, cutting off whatever comment Aziraphale is making.

Gabriel looks up at him and raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll just see if Crowley needs anything, shall I?” Aziraphale says tactfully, and leaves. They ignore him.

“What’s up, Sammy?” Gabriel asks, still looking wary.

 _Sammy._ Sam swallows, his throat tight. He can’t be sure if Gabriel called him that to annoy him, or… “I want to go with you.”

Gabriel sighs. “You can’t. There’s no knowing how long it will take, or what we’ll run into. Angels know how to prevent paradoxes when they travel in time, but you…”

“Whenever we time-traveled before we didn’t change anything. I thought we couldn’t.”

Gabriel sighs again. “Those were your lives, your own personal destinies. What happened had been fixed from the beginning. This won’t have anything to do with you or Dean acting as vessels, so you could royally screw things up.”

“But–” Sam cuts off, then decides, screw it. “I don’t like the idea of you going into danger without me guarding your back.”

Both eyebrows go up this time. “I’ve been around a long time, Sammy. I can take care of myself.”

“I _know_ that!” Sam growls. “It’s just I…” He takes a deep breath. “I’m afraid you won’t come back.”

Something flickers across Gabriel’s face, there and then gone again. “Why should you care?”

“Because I–” But he can’t say it. He can hardly admit he cares about Gabriel to himself yet. So he just reaches out and grabs the archangel’s hand and squeezes it.

Gabriel’s eyes widen. “Sam?”

“Promise me you’ll come back?” he pleads.

Something determined appears in Gabriel’s eyes, and he nods. “I’ll always come back for you.”

***

The next day the three angels get ready to go. Aziraphale had conscientiously changed into a robe of rough material, but Cas still wore his trenchcoat and suit, and Gabriel the jacket, jeans and T-shirt he wore most often.

“Won’t people notice?” Dean wants to know.

“No,” Gabriel says. And that appears to be that.

Dean goes over to Cas and awkwardly grips his shoulder. “Be careful.”

Cas nods solemnly. “I will.”

Sam looks at Gabriel. This may be his last chance to say…whatever he’s going to say. “Good–” his voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Good luck.”

Gabriel flashes him a cocky grin. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam shifts unhappily.

“Oh come on, we’ll be back before you know it, probably literally.”

Sam tries to believe that.

Crowley snorts and mutters something under his breath, the only part of which Sam catches is _morons_ and grabs two fistfuls of Aziraphale’s robe, hauls him down and kisses him.

It says something about the gravity of the moment that neither Dean nor Gabriel comments.

Crowley pulls away and hisses, “If you don’t come back I will hunt you down myssself and make you regret it!”

Aziraphale smiles. “Yes of course, dear,” he replies, and runs a hand through Crowley’s hair. Crowley closes his eyes and sighs.

“Well,” Gabriel says, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Aziraphale nods and Cas sets his shoulders. There’s a fluttering sound and abruptly there are no angels in the room.


	6. Hay-Shaped Needles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Crowley had hated the fourteenth century, he’s getting just as sick of the first.

Aziraphale lies down on the bed in the inn and sighs.

They haven’t had any luck yet. They’d gone back too far, before the revelation, and had to go forward again. That hadn’t done any good, since unlike most prophets Hezekiah wasn’t well-known, and inquiries as to “Hezekiah’s location” were met with shrugs and shaking heads. They’ve been over most of Israel, it seems.

“We can try going forward again tomorrow,” Castiel suggests and Aziraphale sighs. There’s nothing else to do, but they’ve been gone three months, he misses Crowley and the dust makes him wish for a cup of tea. If Crowley had hated the fourteenth century, he’s getting just as sick of the first. The food is terrible, he’s dirty all the time, and many of the things he’d come to enjoy since (like tea, or a good symphony) were millennia away. Going through it once had been bad enough.

“I suppose so.” He slants a glance at the other two beds, where Gabriel and Castiel are resting.

***

They move forward to the time just after Hezekiah’s death. Gabriel had suggested it might be easier to take the book if the owner wasn’t around. Aziraphale and Castiel had both had reservations about robbing the dead, but reluctantly agreed that this was their best chance.

Unfortunately, they arrive too late again, and the prophet’s things have been sold. _Bless it, angel, get with the program! We don’t have all the time in the world!_

He shakes off the voice. Crowley can’t reach him here, but after six millennia the demon tends to invade his head anyway.

“Excuse me,” Aziraphale asks a passing man. “This man was making a copy of a book for me. I paid him a considerable sum, and it seems that everything in the house is gone. Do you know where it might be?”

He shrugs. “All the books went to the temple library in Jerusalem.”

“Thank you.”

He returns to Gabriel and Castiel, who are waiting on the edge of the crowd. Gabriel has his arms crossed. Gabriel never had much patience, and Aziraphale knows he’s getting sick of chasing false information.

“All of his books were taken to Jerusalem.”

“Well, let’s go!” Gabriel says, disappearing before Aziraphale can reply.

He raises a brow at Castiel, who shrugs.

***

Once they’re in Jerusalem they approach the temple. There are people burning offerings on the altar, and men bringing wood through one of the south gates. Women pass through one of the east gates.

“They’re not going to allow us access to the library, you know.” Gabriel points out.

Aziraphale shifts uneasily. “We could ask…”

“We’ll have to come back at night,” Castiel says suddenly.

Both of them turn to stare at him.

Castiel glares back defiantly. “If we will not be allowed entry we will have to enter in secret and take what we need.”

Gabriel laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “Look at you! Hanging around with the Winchesters has taught you a few things!”

“But we can’t just _rob_ a _temple library!_ ” Aziraphale protests.

Gabriel snorts. “Azzy, Lucifer’s going to _destroy the world!_ There’s no alternative.”

Aziraphale winces, both at the nickname, and because Gabriel’s right. “Very well.”

They get a room at one of the inns, waiting for nightfall.

***

“I still don’t think this is–”

“ _Shhh!_ ” Gabriel hisses.

They’re in the temple, fortunately not needing light. They go through the main courtyard and inside, looking for the library.

“ _Here!_ ” Castiel says from a doorway.

They go inside to find a large room with cubbyholes in the walls filled with scrolls. Texts are stacked neatly, and rows of scribes' desks with ink, parchment and pens stretch away into the distance.

“How are we going to find it?” Aziraphale asks, looking around in awe.

“Start looking,” Gabriel says, rolling his eyes. “Cas, you go through the cubbies on the east wall, I’ll take the west. Azzy, you’ve got the books.”

Aziraphale nods, and begins looking.

He’s not sure what he’s looking for, and finds himself getting distracted as he reads, having to tear himself away from each book once he realizes that it’s not the right one.

“I think this is it,” Castiel says suddenly, spreading a scroll out on one of the desks.

Aziraphale scans it. “‘ _Brightest Son to darkness turned…’_ ‘ _Almighty conflict such as never seen in that realm…’_ ” He turns to the next page, then the next. “Aha! _‘God himself set the seal in place on the Dark One’s prison, with Words Irrefutable…’_ _‘…last until righteousness falls and revenge overtake…’_ ‘ _To seal the Dark One back in his prison, nevermore to be released…’_ ”

He looks up. “This is it. Good work, Castiel.”

“So put it away and let’s _go!_ ” Gabriel snaps.

“But we can’t just…”

Gabriel heaves a sigh. “We have no way of knowing which parts we’ll need, and we’ve got no time to copy it.”

“But–“

“ _And,_ ” Gabriel cuts him off, “It seems to me that the reason the Book was lost is because _we_ took it! Already happened.”

Aziraphale huffs, but rolls up the scroll. “ _Fine!_ ”

He closes the case and tucks into his robe, takes hold of Castiel’s and Gabriel’s hands and pours his Grace together with theirs.

***

Gabriel looks up. They’re in the living room of Crowley’s summer house and Sam is flipping disconsolately through a book. He looks up and the book falls to the floor as he bounds to his feet. “You’re back!”

Gabriel feels his heart squeeze, seeing him again after more than three months. He takes half a step forward.

He’s halted by Crowley appearing in the room, alerted to their presence, or else just Aziraphale’s. He ignores the rest of them, goes to Aziraphale and sets about reminding him why he shouldn’t leave.

Dean comes in after him, alerted by Sam’s shout. He looks at Aziraphale and Crowley making out and snorts, then catches sight of Cas, and his eyes soften. “Are you OK?”

“I am fine, Dean.”

“Did you get it?” Sam wants to know.

Gabriel gestures to Aziraphale, who disengages from Crowley and produces the scroll. “I need to look through this–”

“Not now you don’t!” Crowley cuts him off. “It’s only been a week here, but from the look of the three of you you were out a lot longer. Go upstairs and clean up! I’ll make dinner, I remember the food they had in the first century.”

“But–”

“ _Now,_ angel!”

Gabriel sees Sam hiding a smile and winks at him.

“That goes for the rest of you, too!” Crowley says, glaring at him and Castiel.

Gabriel throws him a sarcastic salute and zaps himself upstairs.


	7. Speaking in Tongues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have the book, but they’re not done yet.

Gabriel wakes up to the smell of olive oil and garlic. He wanders down to the kitchen to find Crowley at the stove and Sam, Dean, Castiel and Aziraphale sitting at the table. The table is circular; Dean is on Sam’s right, with Cas on Dean’s right. Aziraphale is sitting across from Castiel.

Gabriel scowls as he realizes he’s been set up. He’ll have to sit either across from or next to Sam, unless he wants to move one of the chairs, and that would draw attention.

“Sssshould have got up earlier,” Crowley hisses at him as he passes, smirking.

He plonks down in the seat across from Sam, just about fed up with Crowley’s matchmaking. He’d realized he was getting too close to Sam after Sam wanted to know why he was still hanging around, and he’d promised himself he’d be more careful. He’d almost thrown that resolution away when Sam wanted to come with him to the past. But he’d convinced himself over the course of three months away that he’d been mistaken, that it was wishful thinking.

Seeing Sam again, though…no. Sam doesn’t think about him that way. He _can’t_ , not after everything Gabriel put him and his brother through.

Crowley brings over the pasta and sets it on the table, then brings over a plate of garlic bread and a bowl of carrots.

He makes sure Aziraphale is served first, Gabriel notices. Aziraphale hands the bowl to Castiel, who looks at it dubiously.

“Eat,” Dean says, and Castiel reluctantly takes some of the pasta.

Dean takes some next, serving Sam too, who gives him a bitchface.

Then Gabriel gets the bowl and hands it off to Crowley.

Aziraphale had passed around the garlic bread and carrots, so now everyone had been served.

Dean, of course, applies himself immediately to the food. “You’re a pretty good cook, for a demon.”

“Thank you,” Crowley replies wryly.

“Yes, dearest, it’s delicious.”

It is. Crowley had put almonds and diced chicken in with the pasta, and after three months of not eating (the food in the first century had hardly been worthy of the name) Gabriel is _starving._ It’s not like angels _need_ to eat, but he’d gotten used to it over the centuries on Earth. “Where’d you learn to cook?”

Crowley shrugs. “You pick a lot of things up, over the years. It’s a hobby.”

“Well, you’re good at it,” Sam puts in. Cas doesn’t say anything, but he’s _eating,_ without being prompted, which is answer enough.

After the pasta Crowley brings out a blueberry pie and ice cream. Of course it would be pie, Gabriel thinks, rolling his eyes. Someone needs to broaden Dean’s tastes.

But it’s the first sweet thing he’s had in three months or nineteen centuries, depending on how you look at it, and it _is_ good, although the sight of Sam licking melting ice cream off his fork is very distracting.

Once they finish the pie, Aziraphale says, “I’d help you clean up, but…”

“You go to bed,” Sam says. “I’ll help clean up.”

Aziraphale gives him a small smile and goes back upstairs. Castiel follows him, leaving Gabriel alone at the table with Dean.

When Crowley and Sam have put the dishes in the dishwasher they come back to the table. Sam sits down next to him. “What happened?”

“Yeah, how’d you find the book?”

So Gabriel tells them about traveling up and down Israel, about the dust and the squalid inns and the horrible food. “It’s a good thing angels don’t need to eat or sleep or we’d have been in trouble.”

He tells them about how they kept missing the time period. “We finally had to rob a temple library to get it.”

“Gabriel, you _didn’t!_ ” Sam gasps, looking a cross between scandalized and delighted.

He nods. “We did. Azzy was having vapors, of course.”

“Well, he would,” Crowley snorts. “This’ll scar him for life.”

“But the best thing?” Gabriel says. “It was Cas’ idea.”

“ _Cas’_ idea?” Dean repeats, an incredulous smile spreading across his face.

“Yep,” Gabriel says, grinning and leaning back in his chair. “He suggested we go in at night when there was no one around.”

“Never thought he had it in him,” Dean says, looking like a father whose kid just won the state spelling bee.

“But now we need to figure out the ritual.”

“Not tonight,” Crowley says. “It’s late. We should all go to bed.”

Gabriel is actually grateful to the demon for once, since Sam’s been shifting like he wants to talk to him alone.

***

The next day Castiel and Aziraphale disappear into the den to pore over the scrolls. The rest of them are at loose ends. Crowley makes dinner again (Sam wonders how a demon got so domestic), Dean’s doing something to the Impala and Gabriel…Gabriel’s disappeared.

Sam tries not to worry too much about that; Gabriel always comes back after all.

Sure enough, around noon Aziraphale and Castiel emerge from the den, clutching sheaves of papers, and Gabriel pops into existence, making Sam yelp.

They spread the papers on the dining room table, and Castiel goes outside to get Dean. Crowley wanders in about the time Dean returns, wiping his oily hands on a rag, Cas following him. “What’s up?” his brother wants to know.

“We’ve translated the parts pertaining to the ritual,” Aziraphale says.

When he doesn’t continue Gabriel snorts. “And?”

“It’s fairly simple, although it will be complicated to arrange.”

“Howso?” Crowley asks.

“It requires demon blood as well as angel blood.”

“What’s so complicated about that?” Dean asks. “We’ve got demons and angels here.”

But Crowley’s shaking his head. “Won’t work. I’m technically still an angel, just like Lucifer.”

Sam’s skin suddenly feels too tight, but he has to ask. “Would…would my blood work?” he croaks.

Aziraphale smiles at him. “No,” he says gently. “You’re still fundamentally human, regardless of the demonic interference in your life. Your blood isn’t suitable. It might even cause you to be pulled in too.”

Gabriel makes a strangled noise and Sam looks at him sharply, but he’s suddenly very interested in the papers.

“So what do we do for the demon blood?” Dean asks.

Crowley shrugs. “We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

“The other problem,” Aziraphale continues, “is the incantation itself. It needs to be spoken in Hebrew.”

“But you guys speak Hebrew, don’t you?” They traveled back and were able to communicate with the people there, and they translated the pages. Sam doesn’t see what the problem is.

Aziraphale nods at him. “We speak all languages. But you and your brother are the ones who must speak it.”

“Why?”

“The cage must be closed by those who opened it.”

Sam winces, and he sees Dean flinch. Cas puts a hand on his brother’s arm.

He supposes that makes sense–ritual symmetry and all. But still, _Hebrew?_ They’d learned Latin, perforce, since most if not all exorcisms were in Latin, and their father had insisted. Dean had bitched, but he’d done it, and he could exorcise demons if he had to, although he usually left that to Sam.

Hebrew, though, was a whole different thing. It didn’t even use the Roman alphabet. “How will we know what to say?”

“I’ll help you,” Gabriel says, and Sam blinks at him.

“We have a translation here, as well as a transliteration. The incantation is only two lines. With our help you should be able to learn it.”

Dean looks dubiously at Cas, but shrugs. “OK.”

***

Three hours into trying to learn the incantation Dean’s about ready to throw something. The Latin had been bad enough, but some bass-ackwards language with a wonky alphabet that you apparently had to have a throat condition to speak properly was too much.

“This is _stupid!_ ” he growls, shoving the papers away.

Cas looks at him reprovingly. Dean can tell he’s irritated by the little wrinkle between his brows, but, dammit, he’s been _trying!_ “This is important, Dean.”

“You think I don’t _know_ that? You think I don’t _know_ how fucking important this is?!”

Cas frowns at him and Dean rubs his eyes. “Sorry, Cas, it’s just…I’m frustrated, y’know? I can’t figure this out.”

“I could…help you,” Cas suggests diffidently.

Dean narrows his eyes at him. “I thought you were helping.”

“No, I could…I could enable you to speak the language.”

“Why the hell didn’t you mention that before?” It would be a hell of a lot easier if he actually knew what he was saying.

“It is…invasive.”

 _Oh, no. Oh_ hell _no!_ “You wanna whammy me!” One of the first rules Dean had set down with Cas was Stay the Fuck Outta My Head. Dean didn’t want him poking around in there, especially now.

“Unless you can learn this yourself, it’s the only way.”

Dean hesitates, torn. Finally he sighs. “Alright, fine! But don’t snoop!”

Cas furrows his brow, looking wounded. “Of course not!”

He lays a hand on Dean’s forehead, and abruptly Dean feels something pushing into his mind. He flinches, but the presence is familiar. He _knows_ this; it speaks to him of safety and freedom from pain. He yearns toward it without thinking, wraps himself around it, pressing closer, everything he’s been trying not to think about surfacing.

Cas gasps, and he feels a flare of astonishment. He pulls away from the contact, from the presence in his mind, but Cas holds onto him, refusing to let him retreat.

He barely notices when knowledge of the language enters his mind, too focused on the fact that Cas _knows._

When Cas pulls back Dean can’t look at him.

“Dean…”

“Just…leave it, Cas, OK?” He shoves his chair back, but Cas grabs his wrist. Dean stares at him.

“No. I won’t leave it. After everything, how hard you’ve fought all your life, you still don’t think you deserve anything good.”

“I _gave up!_ ”

“Temporarily. I can hardly blame you for losing faith.”

“But–” He’d never meant Cas to know. Maybe he hadn’t exactly been subtle about his feelings, but he’d never wanted…

Dean’s cut off when Cas leans across the table and presses his lips to his.

He jerks back violently, almost tipping the chair over.

“It’s not just you,” Cas says quietly.

“But–” Dean says again. It’s impossible. Cas can’t… He wonders if he ran into a djinn again and forgot.

Cas puts a hand on his arm, and he feels the presence in his mind again, not pushing in, just waiting. He opens up to it almost against his will, the light and comfort of Cas’ presence.

This time he gets Cas’ memories. His feelings in the moments Dean himself had thought it was impossible to love Cas any more, and other times Dean hadn’t noticed, like when he’d kissed Anna. He’s shocked at the jealousy Cas felt, even then.

Cas pulls back and stares at him defiantly.

“Cas…” Dean reaches out, but the angel moves his hand out of reach.

“We need to concentrate on the ritual. We’ll talk later.”

Later. Dean sighs and turns back to the pages.

***

Sam stares at the pages, his eyes so blurred he can hardly tell the difference between Hebrew and English.

They’ve been at it all day, and Gabriel has been surprisingly patient with him, repeating the words as many times as Sam asks, and correcting his pronunciation without snapping at him.

But Sam can’t get it. Romance languages he can deal with: he took some Spanish, after all, and he can speak Latin in his sleep…but Semitic languages have nothing in common with Latin, not even the alphabet.

“I can’t do this,” Sam says, rubbing his eyes.

“Let’s call it a night,” Gabriel replies. “You’re tired, I’m tired. We’ll have better luck in the morning.”

Sam doubts that, but he gets up from the table anyway.

Dean’s at the table, mechanically eating a sandwich. He looks dazed. When he sees Sam he gets up and rummages in the refrigerator, making a second sandwich and setting it down in front of him.

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Sam says, picking up the sandwich. “How’s the incantation coming?”

Dean shrugs. “I’ve got it down.”

Sam puts his sandwich down. “Really?”

Dean nods. “Cas helped me. If you’re having trouble I could help you tomorrow.”

“What makes you think you could do any better than I can?” Gabriel snaps, something dark in his eyes.

“Cas taught me to speak Hebrew.”

Sam’s eyes widen, because _what?_

Gabriel says something in Hebrew, sounding insulting. Dean snaps something back. Gabriel sounds surprised when he replies, but still skeptical. Then Dean rattles off something Sam recognizes as the incantation.

“I’m impressed,” Gabriel says reluctantly. “Apparently he taught you Biblical _and_ Modern Hebrew. Not that you’ll need the Modern…”

“What’d you say?” Sam demands.

“He said I was too much of an idiot to know Hebrew,” Dean drawls, leaning back in his chair. “I told him he was a dick. He said I might know the language, but that doesn’t mean I knew the incantation.”

“So you said the incantation,” Sam finished.

“Fine! He can help you! Not that he’ll do any good!” And Gabriel storms away.

Dean stares after him. “Dude. What crawled up his ass and died?”

Sam shrugs, staring too.

***

The next day Dean helps him with the incantation, and he does do a better job than Gabriel. He tells him what each of the words mean, and how they fit together, and explains the pronunciation.

“No, it’s _ch,_ like you’ve got something stuck in your throat.”

By midday Sam can pronounce the transliteration correctly. By evening he’s able to say the incantation from memory.

“I think we got it,” Dean says as Sam runs through it a third time without looking at the page.

“Yeah. Thanks, Dean.”

“No problem. Now all we need to do is find some demon blood and trap Lucifer.”

Sam’s satisfaction drains away. The worst part is still in front of them.


	8. The Home Stretch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ritual.

The next day they start preparing. Aziraphale is fairly sure there’s going to be some pretty heavy destruction involved, so they find an abandoned barn about twenty miles outside the town to set up in.

Castiel and Aziraphale slit their palms (Dean’s surprised to see Aziraphale do it without a wince; he’s obviously not as soft as he looks) and paint the sigils on the walls. Crowley hadn’t wanted to use his blood, because “I’ve been a demon for six thousand years. Don’t want to risk buggering it up”) so he was out trying to find an actual demon for the ritual. Gabriel had had to make a trip to Jerusalem to get more holy oil, since they were out.

Gabriel gets back first, and pours the oil in a large circle in the middle of the barn. Now all they have to do is wait for Crowley to get back with the demon.

Sam’s sitting in the corner, muttering. Dean wanders over. He’s repeating the incantation under his breath, and every time he messes up earlier, swearing and starting over.

Dean interrupts him with a hand on the shoulder and a muttered “Hey.”

Sam looks up at him. “I can’t get it! I keep messing up!”

“You know it, don’t worry! Try to think about something else.”

Sam gives him Bitchface #7 for that: Even You Aren’t That Much of an Idiot. “If I mess up–”

“You _won’t_ mess up!” Dean repeats. “Just relax!”

Sam glares at him again, but takes a few deep breaths, then runs through the incantation again, without any mistakes.

“There, see? Now come on, Crowley should be back soon.”

Sure enough, as they move back towards the others, Crowley staggers in, pushing a bound figure in front of him. It’s got a bag over its head with a Devil’s Trap on it.

He forces it into the Devil’s Trap Dean had spray-painted on the floor in a corner, out of the way, and pulls off the bag.

It’s a girl, about twenty, with long black hair and gray eyes. She sneers at them. “Well well well, three angels, a demon and the Winchesters. What on earth could you be up to, hmmm?”

“Shut up!” Crowley snaps. “If you give us your blood and let the girl go we’ll let you live.”

She pretends to think about it. “Mmm, no, I don’t think so. I like this body; it’s comfortable.”

Crowley gives Aziraphale a look, and the angel moves in and presses two fingers to the girl’s forehead. She slumps to the ground, unconscious. Crowley takes out a knife and slits her palm, letting the blood flow into a shallow bowl. They had all gathered around the Devil’s Trap, but as soon as Crowley takes out the knife Sam backpedals clear over to the opposite wall.

When Crowley has enough blood he goes to complete the sigils on the walls. Aziraphale leans over the girl again, heals the gash on her hand, then touches her forehead. There’s a flash of light.

“Is she…” Dean begins.

“She’s fine,” Aziraphale assures him. “She should wake up in a few minutes.”

Dean nods. “Be right back.”

He goes out to the Impala and opens the trunk, rummaging in the bottom for something he and Sam haven’t needed for two years.

When he gets back the girl is stirring. She opens her eyes, takes in the blood on the walls and the strange people around her and tries to bolt. Aziraphale restrains her, and, yeah, definitely not as soft as he looks, since she can hardly move in his grip.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, you’re safe now!”

“Get away from me!” she screams. “Leave me alone!”

Dean steps over and shakes her shoulders. “Hey! Snap out of it!”

She peers up at him with wide, terrified eyes. “Who are you? What happened to me?”

“What do you remember?”

“A thing…oh God, a thing in my _head!_ I couldn’t move, and it…it…” She starts crying and throws herself at him. He catches her by reflex, but isn’t sure what to do with a crying woman. Crowley, finished with the sigils, is smirking at him. Dean glares.

Finally she pulls herself together, moving back from him and wiping her nose on her sleeve. Aziraphale hands her a handkerchief, and if Dean didn’t have other things on his mind, he’d _so_ give him crap for that.

“That thing in your head? It was a demon. You were possessed.”

She pales, and he hastily continues, “It’s gone now. We got rid of it.”

“Can it come back?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, ordinarily. But not if you wear this.” He holds out one of the anti-possession necklaces he and Sam hadn’t needed to use since they got their tattoos.

She looks at it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Anti-possession charm. Keeps you from being ridden around by demons.”

She takes it from him, her hand shaking, and pulls it over her head. “Thank you,” she gasps and runs out of the room.

***

“So are we ready?” Gabriel wants to know.

“Ritually or emotionally?” Sam shoots back.

“The sigils and the circle are in place. We should be able to begin at any time,” Cas confirms.

“So what’s the deal with the circle?”

“You and Sam must be inside it, with Lucifer–”

“Oh, that’s just great,” Dean snorts.

“We will be outside it, anchoring the points.”

Dean’s brow furrows. “What do you mean ‘anchoring the points’?”

“The compass points,” Sam says. “A lot of spells use direction as a component.”

Dean scowls. He knew that. “OK, people, let’s get it over with already!”

Aziraphale nods and rubs his hands together. “Let’s see…Gabriel, you need to be in the west, naturally.”

Gabriel nods tightly, and moves to stand outside the circle.

“Sam, line up with him, just inside it. Dean, across from Sam.”

As they move into position Dean hears Cas say reluctantly, “You should be on the east.”

He turns to see Aziraphale raise an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”

Cas flounders a bit. “Well you…you’re the Angel of the Eastern Gate.”

Aziraphale brushes him off. “Not for millennia, dear boy. I’ll take the north point. It’s far more fitting that you take the east, go on.”

As Castiel moves outside the circle near him, close enough to touch, Dean wonders just what Aziraphale had meant by “fitting.”

Aziraphale and Crowley take the north and south points, the demon fidgeting. “I still don’t know about this…”

“It will be fine, dearest, now hush.”

Dean takes a deep breath and pulls his lighter from his pocket.

They have to get Lucifer here. And that means they have to offer him something he wants. The sigils on the walls prevent demons coming inside, and will bounce Lucifer inside the circle when he does appear. But first they have to get his attention.

Gabriel reaches out and touches Sam’s chest and his brother cries out and falls to the floor. Dean stays in place with difficulty.

Gabriel helps him up. “Come on, he’ll be here any minute!”

The sigils carved into Sam’s ribs are gone, and Gabriel has subtly amplified his presence; not enough that it will be blatantly obvious it’s a trap (although Lucifer’s likely to think that anyway, especially if he tries to send demons first) but enough that Lucifer can pinpoint him easily.

No more than three minutes later, Lucifer appears in the circle. Dean flicks his lighter and drops it. The holy oil blazes up, racing around the circle, leaving him and Sam cut off from help, with a very angry devil on their hands.

Lucifer snarls and goes for him, but Dean begins the incantation: “What was loosed, as should not have been, bind now again, today and until the ends of the Earth, seal away so that evil may no more trouble the world.”

Lucifer stops, shuddering.

“What was loosed, as should not have been, bind now again, today…” Sam begins across from him, less certainly but just as determinedly, “seal away so that evil may no more trouble the world.”

There’s an unearthly howl, rising to a scream, a wind that extinguishes the holy fire, and a flash of light.

As he falls to his knees he sees the three angels and Crowley glowing as they contain the energy. There’s a final burst of sound and light, and Lucifer vanishes.

Dean wobbles, disoriented, and Cas reaches out to steady him.

Sam, though, has collapsed completely.

Dean tries to move across the circle, see if he’s alright, but he staggers, and Cas has to tighten his arms around him to keep him from falling.

Gabriel pulls Sam’s head into his lap, stroking his hair and patting his face. “Sam. _Sammy!_ ”

Dean feels a flare of jealousy at Gabriel using _his_ nickname, but Sam groans and peers blearily up at the archangel. “Gabriel?”

“It’s me, kiddo,” Gabriel says, sagging slightly with relief.

“What happened?”

Gabriel smiles at him, a smile Dean’s never seen before, and he gets the feeling he’s intruding on something, but he can’t look away. “We did it. You did it. Lucifer’s back in Hell.”

Sam closes his eyes at that. “Thank God!”

“Thank Somebody, anyway,” Crowley puts in, but Aziraphale hushes him.

“And something else happened, that we didn’t expect.”

“Hmm?” Sam seems almost asleep.

“It burned the demon blood out of you. Completely, as if it had never been. You shouldn’t even get cravings anymore.”

At that, Sam’s eyes shoot open, and Dean feels his own jaw sagging down.

And then it’s sagging further, because Sam looks at Gabriel, nods to himself, grabs a fistful of the archangel’s jacket and hauls him down for a kiss.

As Dean gapes, not sure whether he should feel disgusted, appalled or murderous, he hears Crowley snort, “About bloody _time!_ ”


	9. As it Should Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a few things to say to Gabriel after it’s all over.

Gabriel walks out of the barn after Sam, still dazed. Castiel has his arm around Dean, and Dean’s leaning into it, even though he got much less of a shock than Sam did. Gabriel sees Sam look at them and hide a smile.

When Dean goes to get in the car, though, Aziraphale puts his foot down. “You’re not driving.”

Dean bristles. “The hell I’m not!”

Before he can protest further, though, all six of them are in Crowley’s living room. Dean swears and runs out of the room.

“Tell me you left his car there, angel.” Crowley says.

“Don’t be silly, dearest, it’s parked outside.”

Crowley sighs. “Ah well.”

Dean comes back in, glowering.

“Now, I think you two should go to bed,” Aziraphale says, looking between him and Sam.

“But–”

“He’s right, Dean. Anyway, I’m exhausted.”

Gabriel peers at Sam suspiciously, as Dean huffs, “ _Fine!_ ” and stomps up the stairs.

Sam follows him more decorously, looking over his shoulder at Gabriel. “You coming?”

He hesitates. They do need to talk, but Aziraphale’s right, Sam should rest. He finally decides, screw it, and follows Sam up the stairs.

When they’re in the room though, Sam shuts the door, shoves him against the wall and jams his tongue down his throat.

Gabriel shoves him off. “What the hell are you doing?”

Sam snorts. “I’d have thought it’d be obvious, especially to someone who’s been hanging around Earth for centuries. I’m trying to seduce you.”

Uh-huh, that’s what he’d thought. Sam would never kiss him if he was in his right mind. “Sam, you don’t know what you’re doing!”

At that Sam gapes at him. “Ex- _cuse_ me?”

“You’ve been messing with very powerful forces, you’re not–”

“Oh you are _so_ not pulling this shit,” Sam cuts him off. He tries to pin Gabriel against the wall again, but he ducks away.

“Gabriel. I’m not being influenced by anything. I know exactly what I’m doing, believe me. I _want_ to do this.”

“But _why?_ After everything I put you and your brother through...the Mystery Spot, Ohio…”

Sam nods. “I haven’t forgotten that. But you also got the book, you helped me with the incantation–“

“Not as much as _Dean_ did,” Gabriel spits out before he thinks.

Sam stares at him. “You’re not honestly _jealous_ of my _brother?!_ ”

“All things considered, I think I have a right to be,” Gabriel returns, trying to brush it off. “I mean, you two are a little _Flowers in the Attic._ ”

Sam smacks him. “You’re disgusting!”

Gabriel grins at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re also changing the subject,” Sam continues.

“Alright, I was jealous, you happy now?”

“How do you think I felt when you were making nice with everyone but me? Even Crowley, even _Dean!_ "

Gabriel stops. “You were jealous?”

Sam snorts. “Fuck yeah, I was. You were bugging me like crazy when we first got here, then all of a sudden you’re ignoring me? What exactly was I supposed to do?”

“Sam, I…” Gabriel stops, swallows. “I didn’t mean to make you jealous. I just, I…”

“You just what?”

“I didn’t want to get too close,” he finishes quietly.

“Why?”

Can’t the bastard just _leave_ it? But no, this is Sam Winchester he’s talking to. “I didn’t want to be rejected.”

Sam puts a hand on his shoulder. “Does it look like I’m rejecting you?”

“But you can’t–”

“I can, and I am. As for influences, you can argue that I’m more myself now than I’ve been since I was six months old.”

“But–”

Sam kisses him again, slowly, and Gabriel shudders.

“Enough arguing,” Sam says when he pulls back. “I love you, and I want you, and I know you want this too.”

Gabriel’s floored all over again. “You _what?_ ” Sam can’t love him, he can’t, it’s impossible…

Sam frowns at him. “What’s the problem? I’d’ve expected you to have jumped me ten minutes ago.”

“I’m not just going to fuck you!” Gabriel spits out.

Sam smiles at him then, moves closer. “Did I say you were?” he breathes in his ear and Gabriel shudders again. Reaches out, takes Sam’s shoulders and pulls him down for a kiss.

Sam doesn’t resist, and Gabriel can feel him smiling against his lips. When they break apart Sam grins at him. “There. Was that so hard?”

“Oh, I’ll show you hard,” Gabriel retorts, and shoves him toward the bed as Sam groans at the joke.

Sam reaches for his jacket and tugs. Gabriel snaps his fingers and all their clothes are gone.

“Gabriel!”

“What? They’re in your bag!”

“Some time I’m gonna have to force you to leave your Trickster powers at the door,” Sam grumbles, and Gabriel grins.

He’s still not sure Sam won’t hate him for this in the morning, but it’s not like he can stop it (or, okay, he can, but that’s not the point). When Sam licks behind his ear all his nobler intentions wave farewell as they fly out the window.

Gabriel pushes Sam down on the bed and he goes willingly, pulling Gabriel down after him. He hesitates for one more second, and in that second Sam’s on top of him, gnawing on his earlobe.

He tries to figure out what led up to this, just what exactly he missed, but Sam’s hand glides down over his hip and takes hold of his cock. Gabriel arches up, all thought firmly and finally erased.

Once Sam’s sure he’s got his attention he grins, ferally, and slides down Gabriel’s body to take him in his mouth.

Gabriel’s hands come up and fist in Sam’s overlong–kid really needs a haircut, but he’s not gonna bring that up now, not when Sam’s giving him the best blowjob he’s had in at least a century.

Sam backs off, laving at the head before pulling off completely and licking down the shaft, sucking Gabriel’s balls into his mouth one at a time.

Gabriel moans and he can feel Sam smirking against him before he swallows him again, swirling his tongue around. Gabriel’s this close to coming apart and he really does try to warn him–it’s only polite–but before he can he’s coming down Sam’s throat.

Sam swallows it, and pulls off, licking his lips reflectively. He’s hard, but Gabriel’s not sure what to do. It’d be rude to just leave, but he’s not sure Sam’s not about to freak out, not sure he’s allowed to touch him.

Sam rolls his eyes and grabs Gabriel’s wrist, guiding his hand to his erection. Gabriel squeezes, tentatively, and Sam moans. The sound snaps something inside him and he strokes down Sam’s cock. Sam moans again and his hips jerk up.

One of the advantages of mind-reading is that you avoid miscues, and Gabriel’s able to bring Sam to the edge fairly quickly. When Sam comes with Gabriel’s name on his lips he finally starts to believe.

Sam takes a moment to recover and stares at him. “Are you always this insecure?”

“I am _not_ insecure!” Gabriel retorts automatically.

“Oh please! ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, you’re not yourself!’ Sounds insecure to me.”

“Did you mean it?” Gabriel’s mouth asks, while his brain screams at it to shut up.

“Mean what?”

Sam’s a bastard, he knows full well what Gabriel’s talking about, he can see it in his mind. All the innocence in the world won’t fool him. “Did you mean it when you said you…”

Sam softens. “When I said I loved you? Yeah?”

A million questions jump into his mind, but the one that makes it out of his mouth is “ _Why?_ ”

Sam shrugs. “Like I said, you found Cas for us, you went back in time to find the book, you helped me memorize the incantation, you anchored one of the points for the ritual. You picked a side.”

“No way is that enough to make you love me!”

Sam thinks for a second. “Maybe not. Maybe I was already in love with you, I dunno.”

“You’re insane!”

Sam smiles crookedly at him. “I’m a Winchester.”

And that, Gabriel thinks as he lies back down, might have been just what he was looking for without realizing it.


End file.
